



KIT CHEfl STOVE 
HOW MY 

MEMORY CLINGS^^ 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr 



THAT OLD 

KITCHEN STOVE 



BY 

DAVID HAROLD JUDD 

Fully Illustrated 
By 

ELIZABETH CRAIG 

and 



MAUD JAMES 



THE 

Hbbey press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 

XonDon NEW YORK /iRontreal 



\MOl 



THE LIBRARY ®F 

GCNCRESS, 
Two Oo*»iM Recefveb 

FEB. 20 1902 

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DEDICATED 

IN ITS SIMPLICITY 

FOR ITS HEART TO HEART DEVOTION 

TO THAT MOST SACRED CIRCLE, 

HOME, 

AND FOR ITS CHRISTMAS CHEER 
TO MY BELOVED WIFE 

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THAT old kitchen stove, 
how my memory dings, 
As my thoughts turn 
back to the savory 
things 
That emerged from its 
oven, its pots and 
kettles 
When my mother 
was matron of those relishing victuals. 







That Old Kitchen Stove. 



II. 



With what a rattle 
and clatter and 
din, 
The table was 
loaded with the 
brightest of tin. 
The fire was given a punch 

and a poke 
And the quaint stone chim- 
ney, how it would smoke ! 
The embers on the hearth 
would sparkle and glow 
As if for the occasion they 

were anxious to go ; 
Enthused, as it were, by 

my mother's desire. 
For she trusted com- 
pletely on that old stove 
fire. 





That Old Kitchen Stove. 7 

III. 

HOUGH years have gone by 

it seems but a span 
Since I tip-toed around, my 
" mamma's Httle man," 
And watched her prepare, 
as deftly she fingered 
The dough into shape, the 
while I lingered 
Till she turned her head and gave me a 

chance 
To rub off my hands on my little pants. 
For sly little fingers will unconsciously 

steal 
Into batter and butter, just to see how 

they feel. 
Ah, the dainties she cooked were tempt- 
ing and sweet; 
It would be hard I am thinking for them 

to be beat. 
Such doughnuts, cookies, tarts and mince 

pies, 
Were rapturous feasts for our little eyes. 



8 



That Old Kitchen Stove. 



Then don't you know, no one else ever 

could 
Do everything just as m^^ mother would? 




That Old Kitchen Stove. 




IV. 

HEN that old home kit- 
chen was a model to 
behold, 
It was just as neat as if 
garnished with gold. 
The floor w^as as spotless as the sands on 

the beach ; 
The ceilings were clean, not a speck w^as in 

reach ; 
The windows w^ere crystal, so clear and 

bright 
That the beauties of heaven were reflected 

at night. 
Behind the stove was a great wood box 
As regularly filled as the crowing of the 
cocks. 



10 



That Old Kitchen Stove. 




V. 

N the brightest cor- 
ner stood the 
old time clock ; 
It was six-foot-six 
in its solid oak stock, 
Its pointers were chiseled from plates of 

brass, 
And its dear old face was hid 

under a glass; 
As its pendulum swung a tale 

it told 
Of the coming and going of our 

little fold 
Its vibrations echoed with a 

resounding tick 
And warned me to hasten, as youth passes 

quick. 
There the sweet smile of welcome to all 
was given 




That Old Kitchen Stove. ii 



For the beauty of home is to 

emulate heaven, 
And many a traveler, tired 

and sore, 
Was clothed and fed from that \i 

old kitchen door. 







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12 



That Old Kitchen Stove. 




VI. 

One night I remember, 

O, starht night ! 
When love was borne 

and all was bright ; 
Lucinda came in, one of 

the neighbor's girls, 
As sweet as a rose, with 
the loveliest curls. 
Her eyes were akin to that heavenly hue, 
Her breath as sweet as the ^fvv.^^ 

jasmine dew. 
With the form of an angel, nO' 

painter's brush '^^^ 

Could portray nature with a 

purer blush. 
Her smile, never mind her smile, don't 

you see ? 
For when she smiled, she smiled at me. 



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That Old Kitchen Stove. 



13 




VII. 



O, the time we did have, the games we 

played; 
The night being dark, Lucinda stayed. 
Now the apples we pared and skins threw 

about 




With songs of laughter and a merry shout; 
The candy we pulled and chilled on the 
snow 



14 



That Old Kitchen Stove. 



Gave to our cheeks a ruddy glow. 

It was the innocence of childhood as gath- 
ered you see, 

That made us as happy as happy could be. 

And the brightest moment of our young 
lives, 

As we huddled together like bees in a hive 



Was when we played we were in a grove 
And picnicked around that old kitchen 
stove. 




That Old Kitchen Stove. 



15 



VIII. 

HERE are the friends of 
my youth, all parted 
.^v-_. and gone, 

My brothers and sisters 
have left every one ; 
Their different vocations have called them 
forth, 





And the mark they make will tell of their 

worth. 
But my mother has passed from the cares 

of earth, 



i6 That Old Kitchen Stove. 

To the God she had worshiped since the 
days of her birth; 

And in my dreams I 
see her vigil keep- 

''' Watch o'er her scat- 

tered children, sleeping. 






That Old Kitchen Stove. 17 

IX. 

EAR friends, I am no longer 

a youth ; 
Let us skip a decade inevi- 
table truth. 
I am quietly sitting j| ,^ ,^ 
one cold Christ- .' ^ 
mas night, "^3 

By that old kitchen ^ i 1^ 

stove, but with i^'^-^'^^^ 
no delight. 
For down at the corners where the two 

roads meet. 
Stands an old stone Church a little back 
from the street, 




1 8 That Old Kitchen Stove. 

'Tis a pilot to the young, a harbor for the 
old, 

And to-night that sweet old story will be 

told 
How the Christ-child came, and the bonds 

were burst 
That the first might be last, and the last 

might be first. 
And the angel of my dreams in former 

days 
Is the angel to-night of those festival 

plays; 
Her hand will unclasp from that ladened 

tree 
Presents for all, for all but me. 



"^^^ 



That Old Kitchen Stove. 



19 



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X. 




R'^''-'^ 


As I sit and ponder 


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K 


my heart grows 
glad 



/■ 



istering should make me sad ; 
In this old wooden rocker b}^ this stove 
so dear 




Am I waking, or dreaming ? Somehow^ it 

isn't clear, 
For looking in the mists of the future I see 
A Christmas present in keeping for me. 



20 That Old Kitchen Stove. 

XI. 

UT hark ! What is 
this I hear? Ah, 
the wind out- 
side ! 
I thought it a footstep, my 
fancy betide ; 
I hear it again. I challenge 
them come. 
And Lucinda is before me, speechless, 

dumb. 
*' Lucinda," I cry as I fold her to my 

heart, 
" Speak, mine angel, must we ever more 

part ? 
For years I've wandered and couldn't 
longer stay. 





That Old Kitchen Stove. 21 

When I knew that you too had planned 

to go away. 
I need you, Lucinda, to make sacred this 

spot, 
Where grow the ivy-twine and the sweet 

forget-me-not. 
The love of my childhood is stronger still 
As I read in your eyes the sweet 'I will.' 
And her answer was whispered: " Tho' 

long you've roved 
We will pledge our troth by this old 

kitchen stove." 




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FEB 20 1902 



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ftB. 20 i902 
FEB. 25 1902 



